


Wait For It

by sergeantwinter



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: First Time, M/M, delayed gratification
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-08
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-15 15:07:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,349
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9240623
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sergeantwinter/pseuds/sergeantwinter
Summary: Viktor won't kiss Yuuri until he wins gold, leaving Yuuri desperate for his touch.





	

Infuriatingly, Viktor stayed true to his word.

  
“I won’t kiss you unless it’s gold,” he’d said. Yuuri thought it was cute, how Viktor teased him. He knew how big of a motivator that declaration would be – Yuuri was aching to kiss him again after their relationship debuted on live television.

  
As he skated off the ice, Yuuri was a little disappointed with his medal – who wouldn’t be? He had come so close to winning, he could almost touch it. This was only a small voice in the back of his mind, however – for the majority he was ecstatic. He’d come second after placing last at his previous Grand Prix final, and he’d broken Viktor’s record! His family and friends must be so proud of him, but the opinion he cared about the most was Viktor’s.

  
Viktor kept up the teasing as he helped Yuuri off the ice, feigning disappointment. Yuuri scoffed and threw himself at Viktor, knocking him to the ground as he hugged him. Relief washed over him like hot water as Viktor buried his face into Yuuri’s neck, and he couldn’t help the tears that spilled down his cheeks. It had been an exhausting day.

  
After a few minutes Viktor poked him in the side, signalling that it was time to get up. Yuuri complied, pulling Viktor up with him. Viktor was warm against his side as they walked towards the exit.

  
Adrenaline was still flowing through Yuuri’s system when they reached the hotel room. The walk home from the rink had been mostly silent, which gave Yuuri plenty of time to think about all the things he wanted to do to Viktor. He felt he deserved it after his performance.

  
As soon as the door was closed Yuuri pinned Viktor against it; he grinned wickedly as he watched Viktor’s pupils dilate. Viktor tipped his head back, exposing his neck to Yuuri’s eager mouth, and let out a strained moan.

  
“Yuuri…”

“I want you so badly, Viktor.” Yuuri breathed, ghosting his lips over Viktor’s jawline.

  
“Stop, Yuuri.” Yuuri was confused but took a step back. Viktor’s face was flushed.

  
“I meant what I said. No kisses for you until you win gold.” Yuuri was speechless as Viktor strode past him and began to undress. “Get ready for bed; you’re tired, right?” He winked at Yuuri as he disappeared into the hotel bathroom. Yuuri stayed staring at the door for a full minute before grudgingly moving towards the bed.

  
*

  
Viktor had not been joking. Training resumed a few weeks after the final, and Viktor was as affectionate as ever with Yuuri, but nothing more. Whenever Yuuri moved in for a kiss, he was met with an innocent smile and a finger pressed to his lips, reminding him that he was forbidden from this pleasure. Once, pushing the boundaries, Yuuri had run his tongue up the length of Viktor’s finger, eliciting a sharp gasp.

  
Viktor’s response only made his longing worse: Viktor moved so that his lips were barely brushing Yuuri's ear and whispered “don't misbehave, Yuuri.” His voice was both sultry and commanding, deeper than usual, and it sent a shiver down Yuuri's spine. He let out a gasp of his own.

  
This small act of rebellion had seemingly given Viktor an incentive to tease Yuuri even more. At practice Viktor was overly strict, criticising the most minimal imperfections in Yuuri's posture, and then offering to correct him. His hands would linger on Yuuri's waist, or he would press in closer than he needed too.

  
When they returned to Japan, Viktor joined Yuuri and his family for dinner every night, chatting amicably to them about previous competitions or his life in Russia. Yuuri didn't participate much in these dinners, using every ounce of his willpower and concentration to keep quiet as Viktor's hand climbed dangerous high on his thigh.

  
The epitome of this torture came when Viktor pushed him too hard in a training session, and offered to make it up to him by giving him a massage. Yuuri had to bite the pillow to keep from screaming as Viktor expertly kneaded his entire body.

  
The Grand Prix final couldn't come soon enough.

  
*

  
“Win gold!”

  
Those were Viktor’s last words to Yuuri before it was his turn to take the ice. By this point Yuuri was truly desperate. Each superficial caress, every whispered word of adoration or lust that Viktor had let him have over the past year made Yuuri feel as though he were about to fall out of his skin; his hands ached with the urge to touch Viktor, to show him how much Yuuri wanted him. He had to win gold.

  
His routine was different this year, of course, but it was still as charged as the last. His performance was infused with passion and longing, and Yuuri felt that the audience must be able to see the lust plain on his face. He was skating for Viktor and Viktor only.

  
Yuuri was the last to perform. He was practically vibrating as he and Viktor sat in the kiss and cry, waiting for his score to be announced.

  
321.54.

  
The crowd erupted into cheer before Yuuri could fully process the situation. He beat his score from the previous final, and he’d won gold. Yuuri turned to Viktor next to him, threw his arms around Viktor’s neck and kissed him with a passion exceeding that he’d displayed on the ice. He leaned all his weight on Viktor, forcing him to lie back on the bench. Yuuri kissed him again and again, coaxing Viktor’s mouth open with his tongue, running his hands through Viktor’s hair. The crowd was cheering for a different reason now and all the cameras in the arena had swivelled to capture their display.

  
Eventually Viktor broke the kiss, smiling awkwardly at the cameras as he pushed Yuuri back to a sitting position and tried to smooth his hair back into place. Yuuri grinned, not embarrassed in the slightest.

  
“He’s not going to do that to all of us, is he?” Chris asked, smirking at the pair from the edge of the kiss and cry.

 

As much as Yuuri wanted to take Viktor back to the hotel room immediately, the event wasn’t finished yet. There was the medal ceremony, interviews, pictures. Yuuri spoke to each of the other competitors individually, telling them how much he enjoyed competing against them and joking that they needed to step their game up if they didn’t want him to get five consecutive titles like Viktor.

  
They got back to the hotel room maybe two hours later. It felt like it had been forever but simultaneously no time at all since they'd first been here; Yuuri was hit with a wave of déjà vu as Viktor pinned him to the door, holding both of Yuuri’s wrists above his head with one hand. The other hand yanked Yuuri's shirt out of his pants clumsily. Viktor’s breathing had sped up, thick with desperation and lust - he'd been waiting just as long as Yuuri had.

  
Viktor ran his hand up Yuuri's side, along his stomach, as though trying to memorise the planes of his body. Yuuri's own breath was ragged as Viktor nosed along his jawline, behind his ear, and bit down, laving his tongue over the marks left behind.

  
“Do you still want me, Yuuri?” His breath was hot against Yuuri's neck.

  
“Please, let me touch you, Viktor. I'll show you you how much I want you.”

  
Viktor obliged, releasing his hold on Yuuri's wrists. Yuuri moaned into Viktor’s mouth as he kissed him, running his hands everywhere he could reach; Viktor's whole body was hot to the touch.

  
Yuuri's moans turned into whines when Viktor pulled Yuuri's shirt over his head and began sucking kisses down his neck, under his collarbones, across his stomach. Viktor knelt down, grabbing Yuuri by the hips before looking back up at him. Yuuri thought he looked beautiful like this, cheeks flushed and mouth slack.

  
“I've wanted to do this for a year. Can I?”

  
Yuuri fisted a hand in Viktor's hair and nodded. 


End file.
